Glacial
by breather
Summary: Furuichi has been having strange dreams since his soul was returned, and his hands have never felt so cold.
1. Chapter 1

So Beelzebub canon has never been very exact when it comes to timelines, so judging by the clothes they wear and my own vague estimation, this story takes place about a month after the St Sent Christmas Battle, a week after the fight with Takamiya, and about a couple weeks before the trip to LA. Probably not accurate, but there you go.

Story Warnings: Some violence and strong language. Mentions of deceased OCs.

Disclaimer: If you recognize any names, terms, or concepts it's because they don't belong to me.

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CHAPTER 1 - Instigation _  
_

_Arrows and steel and little bits of flesh, falling like rain. Hot blood slicking icy mountain passes. No sure footing, even for him, him and his people, people falling and crying and never standing up._

_It's over, it's over, but why is it so cold? He's never been cold before, but now he's numb, no feeling but cold. How odd. Not in a good way. Maybe? OH-_

_And now he's falling, no sure footing after all, NO SURE FOOTING, slip and slide down the mountain, just like he and Sybreon used to do when they were small. It's not fun now, though, not without Sybreon, where's Sybreon, where, where? Just saw him…yesterday maybe? Last night? THERE! _

_Behind the rock, the great big rock, STOP HIDING HIM! There was Sybreon, he'd recognize that armor anywhere, had to get him and GET OUT because it was all all all over now. Grab his shoulder, turn him around, oh thank Trinimac, thought he'd lost him, dear friend, closest companion, and oh GODS-_

_Where was his **face?** Just blood and bone and bits of hanging skin._

_…Sybreon? please, don't go…need you, need you, whywhyWHY-_

_AVENGE HIM, PRINCE! _

_But the Prince can't. _

_He's dead too. _

Furuichi retched into the toilet. This was the eighth time in as many days he'd been awoken by some terrible, bloody nightmare, and each time, fear of the visions had kept him from going back to sleep. He'd attempted to stave off sleep for the night, if it meant not having to _see_ anymore, but his body had apparently disagreed; he'd fallen asleep a few hours past midnight.

People at school were starting to take notice, too. The dark bags beneath his eyes and the sallow, waxy skin of his face had prompted the Red Tails to start calling him Creepichi again, despite their promise a few weeks ago to let up on the teasing. Himekawa had commented yesterday that his obvious sickness was divine retribution for having disrespected his upperclassmen, when Furuichi couldn't be bothered to raise his head from his desk the whole day, not even to admire the Red Tails when they walked by.

He rinsed his mouth out and splashed warm water in his face, examining his reflection in the mirror. _Jesus, I really look like shit_, he thought dispassionately. He took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand back through his hair, only to let out a pained hiss when his palm grazed the shell of his ear.

"What the hell…?" he muttered, leaning closer to the glass to get a better look. He brushed his hair away from his ear and frowned in consternation. The shell was red and swollen and faintly radiated heat; it looked infected, but there was no wound anywhere. The other ear was the same. He poked a bit at the inflammation, but could see no obvious cause. There would be no answers for this new ailment tonight.

"Maybe I should see a doctor about all this crap," he murmured. He huffed a bit then pushed away from the sink, turning to head back to his room, already resigned to another sleepless night.

He settled onto his bed and leaned back against the wall to watch out the window, wrapped tightly in his blankets and sheets. It was just so damn _cold_ lately, despite the encroachment of spring. Furuichi glanced down at his white-knuckled hands, clenched tight to keep from shivering, and examined their purple-blue nail beds. _It's definitely not just my imagination, if I can see the effect of the cold_, he thought groggily. He put in his mp3 player and settled back to watch for the sunrise.

He left early for school that morning, long before Oga would have passed by on his own way. The second day after his nightmares had started – two days after he'd_ lost his soul _and_ died_ – Oga had started questioning him in an awkwardly roundabout way about his appearance. He couldn't tell him about the nightmares – it was bad enough to be the absolute weakest in a school of delinquents and to have everyone know he was afraid of fights, but to start having bad dreams about blood and battle too, like some little kid? There was no way whatever pride he had left would allow him to admit some kind of _trauma_. He just told Oga that he probably hadn't quite recovered yet, and that maybe he'd caught something while his immune system was down, too. Oga had bought it the first few days, but had started looking suspicious after Furuichi had only gotten worse. He hated lying to his friend, so he had decided to avoid him for as long as possible instead.

He trudged his way wearily down the streets, ignoring the strange looks he was receiving for the heavy winter coat, gloves, scarf, and hat he'd covered himself with. Even still, he couldn't quite suppress his shivers. The brand-new, heavily graffitied school buildings came into view, and seeing it Furuichi realized he just…couldn't. It was just too cold, and he was just too tired to bother with class and classmates today. But he couldn't go home either, not after assuring his mother that he was fine. He shuffled into the nearest doorway, hoping to at least get out of the open and into the warmer buildings. By luck, he happened across the one person who could tell him the one place he wanted to be right now.

"Hey, Toujou!" Furuichi called, spotting the large teen walking down the hall beside Aizawa and Jinno. It seemed today was one of the rare days he wasn't working. The seniors stopped and turned to regard him.

"Eh, Furuichi? You… You look like shit," Toujou said, frowning a bit, crossing his arms and looking him up and down.

"Yeah, thanks," he deadpanned. "Look, you built the school, right? Where's the boiler room?" Toujou cocked his head and his frown deepened into one of confusion, but he obligingly pointed Furuichi to the basement of building two. Furuichi ducked into a side hallway and made his escape before Toujou could question him further.

On his way there, he skillfully avoided any of the Saints crew, not wanting to deal with their awkward, half-curious, half-concerned questions. _Heh, Furu-nin is born,_ he snickered to himself as he rolled past a room Hanazawa's excited chatter was echoing from, and slipped into the shadowed space between a pair of vending machines to evade Kanzaki and Shiroyama. A few fodder thugs had noticed him duck in, but he unabashedly took advantage of his position as Oga's best friend to keep them quiet – _Keep your traps shut or the Child-Rearing Badass will shut them for you!_

Furuichi immediately noticed the difference as he found the stairwell down to the boiler room – just opening the door let out a burst of warm air. He sighed in relief and rushed down excitedly. Three huge metal boilers and an intricate series of steaming pipes filled the dark room, the heat of it all keeping other thugs from invading. Furuichi grabbed a couple of dirty leftover construction tarps from the corner and stuffed them in between two of the boilers, settling himself in the fabric. _God, it's so nice in here…_ he thought sleepily. Within minutes, the chill had receded from his torso and limbs, and a few more minutes had drained his fingertips and toes of their numbness. He let his head fall against the metal beside him, and was too comfortable and lethargic and _relieved _to notice anything but the fact that he wasn't cold anymore.

He was understandably shocked when he was jolted from his short doze by large hands clamping onto his shoulders and forcefully dragging him out of his nest. He yelped and flailed, startled, a kick and two punches connecting with the other body but having no effect.

"What the hell, Furuichi! Didn't you even feel it?" Natsume said, his voice uncharacteristically raised. Furuichi hadn't even noticed the door opening.

"Natsume, what…?"

"Your face, idiot! It was pressed against the boiler! Shit, you're all burned." The tall senior took his chin in a firm grip and tilted his face to the side, trying to better survey the damage in the dim lighting of the basement room. Furuichi could only feel vague warmth emanating from his cheek, although his fingertips were already starting to numb from cold again.

"No, no! Stop, I'm fine, lemme go! It was so warm there," Furuichi cried, pushing against the other man's chest and pulling at his wrists, but having no success at removing his hands.

"Yeah, it was really fucking warm alright! Jesus, look at this, you've got _blisters_, Furuichi. You seriously didn't even notice?"

"No, you're seriously overreacting right now! I'm sure it's not that bad," he protested, still struggling to free himself from Natsume's iron grip. The senior snorted.

"Right, whatever. C'mon, let's go to the nurse," he said, switching his grip to Furuichi's wrist and dragging him bodily up the stairs. He gave a bit of token resistance but ultimately gave up. He knew he was weaker than even those fodder he had threatened earlier; there was no way he could break away from someone like Natsume.

"Hey, what are you doing!" Furuichi exclaimed, seeing the other pull out his phone.

"Calling Oga. Oi oi oi, hands off, no arguing! I'm not gonna be the one who didn't tell our leader his boy got hurt," he said, dialing the number one-handed while holding the phone above his head, out of Furuichi's shorter reach. He was unprepared for Furuichi's body slam, however. The phone clattered to the ground and Natsume grabbed him by the shoulders again, spinning him around and slamming him into the wall. "Eh? Just what do you think you're doing, freshman?" he said lightly. There was nothing light or friendly about the pissed off look on his face, though.

"Don't tell Oga. It's not his business, and it's _really_ not yours," Furuichi said firmly. He was really just hoping he could annoy Natsume back into his normal detached behavior. He was sure the senior was only acting like this because he was amused by or interested in something; Furuichi had never seen him with any other kind of motivation, let alone any kind of _concern._

"Oi, what's going on? Natsume?" _Toujou to the rescue again! _Furuichi thought gleefully, watching the redhead stride down the hallway. Natsume's expression cleared and he stepped back, bending down to pick up his phone before turning to speak to Toujou.

"I'm trying to take him to the nurse, but he's being a bit stubborn," he laughed nonchalantly. Toujou cocked his head and opened his mouth to ask more, but Natsume just pointed to Furuichi's cheek. Toujou's open mouth dropped further and his eyes widened. Furuichi glanced away and would have blushed, but heat was already gathered in his cheeks. Seriously, it wasn't _that_ bad, was it? He would have noticed if he was hurt…right?

"I found him sleeping against a boiler," Natsume continued, rather less jovially. "Think you could let Oga know?" he asked, grabbing Furuichi's wrist again and setting off without waiting for Toujou's assenting nod. He didn't stop again until they reached the nurse. Furuichi couldn't see his face from where he was being dragged along behind, but he figured the senior must have been exercising his rarely-used evil eye to part the sea of thugs filling the hallways; they met with zero resistance on the way.

"Maybe you should sit," Natsume called to him cheerfully as they bustled into the nurse's office, the senior finally releasing Furuichi's wrist and moving over to the medicine cabinets.

Despite the wide, close-eyed smile and chirpy tone, there was no mistaking the order in Natsume's voice. Furuichi sat. The older man poked around the shelves and had just pulled out a few sheets of gauze and some kind of salve when Oga burst into the room, Toujou at his heels.

"What the fuck, Furuichi?" Oga growled. Furuichi took egregious advantage of Natsume kneeling in front of him and applying the salve to hide his face from Oga.

"Nothing. I was just cold, that's all," he muttered stiffly. And on that note, there were several unused blankets scattered across the bed. He gathered them up and wrapped them tightly around his shoulders, busying himself to distract from the unwelcome conversation.

"Doesn't explain why you were stupid enough to fall asleep there." Oga wasn't letting up, not that Furuichi really expected him to. Stubborn bastard.

"I didn't mean to, it was an accident," he sighed. He really wished Toujou and Natsume weren't here, it made everything doubly embarrassing. Oga didn't speak for a moment, waiting until Natsume had finished and moved away from Furuichi to continue.

"Oi, idiot. You should sleep more," Oga said gruffly. Furuichi shook his head, still not meeting his friend's gaze. Oga frowned and shoved his face in front of Furuichi's. "Sleep, or I'll make you, dumbass!"

"Goddamnit, Oga, just fuck off, okay? I'm fine! _Jesus_," he shouted, pushing Oga back with a hand to the face.

"You're obviously not fine, moron! Look at you, you look like you're about to fall over dead!"

"Again, you mean?" Furuichi sneered nastily, gratified when Oga dropped his eyes and Baby Beel let out a small whimper. In the back, Toujou shifted uncomfortably and Natsume let out a playful "Ooooh~"

"Is that what this' about? You're fucked up from what Lucifer did?" Oga asked, glancing back up at him. Furuichi sighed and hugged himself a bit tighter.

"I dunno, man… It's just, other stuff started happening after that fight."

"Then the others might know about it," Oga said decisively. "You wait here, I'll go find them. C'mon Toujou. You stay," he said, directing the last part at Natsume. The senior nodded with a guileless smile and stepped further into the room. Furuichi glanced up at him.

"How'd you even find me down there?" he asked. The taller man shrugged a bit.

"I overheard you ask Toujou where the boiler room was and got curious. I thought you might be doing something fun. But that was seriously no fun at all," Natsume finished lightly, the pout in his voice at odds with the uncharacteristically firm gaze he directed at Furuichi.

"I was just cold. You guys are making a bigger deal out of this than it is," he muttered. The other man just regarded him coolly, head cocked to the side. He pursed his mouth and tapped a long finger against his lips faux-contemplatively.

"No, I think we waited too long to bring it up as it is."

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Hello there, welcome! I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Please note that this will be a MINOR crossover with the Elder Scrolls video game series. It'll take place entirely within the Beelzebub world, but will include some lore from ES. No game spoilers, and no playable content will be detailed. Can't say anything more, I don't want to ruin it!

This will predominantly be a hurt/comfort, friendship story with some action, but I'm considering adding a love interest for Furuichi. Note that if I decide to do romance, it'll probably be a slash pairing. Let me know what you guys want on that front: Romance or Gen? And which pairing, if any?

Until next time~


	2. Chapter 2

Story Warnings: Some violence and strong language. Mentions of deceased OCs.

Disclaimer: If you recognize any names, terms, or concepts it's because they don't belong to me.

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CHAPTER 2 - Intervention

When Oga returned, he had both Takamiya and Akahoshi in tow. The former had reverted to his original dreary appearance, and seemed disgruntled to have been summoned. Akahoshi appeared mildly concerned and curious, and a looming Toujou brought up the rear and then planted himself firmly in the doorway, blocking access. Natsume joined him, leaning back against the doorframe. As soon as they stepped into the office, Oga addressed them unceremoniously, tone brusque and firm.

"What're the side affects to having your soul removed and split?"

The trio of freshmen turned to look at Furuichi, and it grated on him how they took in his burned face, his dark, bloodshot eyes, and his shivering form, bundled in heavy winter gear and all the sheets and blankets from the nurse's office.

"I- I don't know. Mammon said there wouldn't be any side effects. Maybe. Probably," Akahoshi grimaced at the end.

"No one's ever survived when Lucifer's split their souls before," Takamiya added unconcernedly.

"Well, there's obviously some fucking side effects! Just look at him! Bring out your fucking demons and ask already," Oga growled. Baby Beel shook his tiny, round fist and gave an angry screech from over his shoulder.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Furuichi stuttered through chattering teeth. He was ignored in favor of Mammon, whom Akahoshi had just called up with a burst of flame.

"I did everything right, his soul's all fixed. I'm still waiting for my full payment, by the way," the bizarre looking demon said, shooting an expressionless glare at Akahoshi. "If there's something wrong, there must have been something wrong with his soul itself. You, boy! What are your symptoms?"

Furuichi frowned. He really didn't want to tell them about the nightmares. It was bad enough they could see this weird cold thing that was happening to him. He looked up at Oga and was met by serious, determined eyes. _Shit_, he thought. _There's no getting away from eyes like that._ Those eyes said that Oga would not stop until he accomplished his goal, and right now, that goal was figuring out what was wrong with Furuichi. He sighed resignedly.

"Besides that I'm freezing like this? It's- I can't sleep. Weird dreams," he admitted quietly, staring down at the floor.

"Nightmares of the fight?" Akahoshi asked neutrally. Furuichi shook his head.

"No, it's… I mean, yeah, sometimes, but mostly– I don't even know how to describe them. It's in weird places, with weird people, and weird situations, and- and it's like I'm not even _me_," he finished a little helplessly.

"Ah, it's that," Mammon said, pounding a fist into an open palm.

"Right, that," Hilda agreed from where she had hopped up into the third-storey windowsill.

"I see, it's that!" Alaindelon's head popped out from underneath the bed, which shifted awkwardly to accommodate his sudden mass beneath it. He was nodding quite seriously. Toujou and Natsume eyed the demon nervously, although if asked, they couldn't quite tell why.

"That?" Furuichi asked, too accustomed to surprise demon appearances by now to be overly startled.

"Precisely that," Mammon said again, crossing his arms and nodding wisely. _What the fuck is that?!_ Inner Furuichi screeched. Outer Furuichi was about to vocalize the question, but was beaten to the punch by Oga.

"Oi, stop being stupid and tell us already!"

"Your soul was scrambled up when it was split. Interference like that sometimes triggers memories of a past life. That's it, you're fine," Mammon said breezily, flapping a hand cavalierly. "I expect compensation for the answer, by the way."

"What about the cold?" Furuichi asked. The demon shrugged.

"It's just in your head. Maybe you died somewhere cold."

"It's not in my fucking head! Look, you can see my breath, and my nails are all blue! I'm seriously freezing here, you shitty demon miser!" he snarled.

"Look, kid, if your body temperature was genuinely below normal, you would be more sensitive to heat than normal. Touching a boiler _normally_ would be extremely painful. For someone who's already 'freezing,' it would have been enough to send you into shock, but you barely even felt it."

"Yeah, because I'm _numb_! Oh, for the love of…" Furuichi exclaimed, rising up out of his pile and slapping a hand against Mammon's bare arm. The demon gasped at the feeling of icicles scraping across his skin and jumped. He hummed a bit.

"Well. I don't know. Bye." He disappeared in a small burst of flame, leaving Furuichi to gape incredulously. Akahoshi winced apologetically.

"I don't know why you are experiencing physical effects. Perhaps it's because you're human," Hilda shrugged, "but this phenomenon is not unheard of in the demon world. Some demons even intentionally cause themselves soul injuries to obtain the wisdom of a previous life."

"How lucky you are, Furuichi-dono!" Alaindelon exclaimed with starry eyes.

"How do we make it stop?" Furuichi asked determinedly. He paused when he took in the surprised expressions on the demons' faces.

"Why would you want to make it stop?" Hilda asked incredulously, her visible eye wide. "This is a powerful gift!"

Furuichi frowned. "It's nothing I want to see. Watching people die every night isn't gonna make me wiser, it just makes me sick to my stomach," he said stiffly.

"Wait, what do you mean you see people die? You only said they were _weird_ dreams," Oga said forcefully, shoving closer to Furuichi again.

"Well, some of them are sort of mundane, I guess… I mean, they're all pretty abstract, and sometimes I kind of recall stuff like sitting around a campfire, or working out strategies, or sharpening a blade. Mostly, though, it's been fighting these- these _horrible_ battles, or walking around the aftermath of them. So, yeah. I see a lot of people die," he finished softly.

Hilda leaned forward to rest her chin on her palm, eyeing him contemplatively. "Then you were a military officer in a past life? This is a good thing. The master can only benefit from having a slave with military expertise. Your value is increasing, Furuichi."

He stared at her blankly for a long moment, dumbfounded. "You… you think it's a good thing that I saw my best friend's face get ripped off last night?" he asked quietly, more to himself than to the demoness. _I don't need to put up with this_, he thought vitriolically.

Beautiful though she may be, Hilda was completely lacking anything similar to empathy when it came to him, and while he had approximately zero desire for pity, he also had no wish to deal with her callousness. He could handle it later, when he wasn't already humiliated by having to talk about his nightmares, but not now.

He didn't want to be here anymore, he just wanted to go home and sleep and forget everything, but none of that was possible, not with his nightmares and not with his mother's concern. He started fiddling with the sheets, trying to untangle himself to leave and go… Somewhere. Anywhere that wasn't here, it didn't matter. A calloused hand covering his wrists stopped him.

Furuichi looked up to see Oga standing over him, face blank, but with intense eyes. He looked over his friend's shoulder to see Toujou herding everyone else out of the room. The tall senior turned to offer them a brief nod over his broad shoulder before slamming the door on Natsume's pout and Alaindelon's worried, tearful eyes.

"Beel needs a nap, so I'm gonna stay here for a while. You should stay too," Oga said in the sudden silence, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his head. "It's fine if everyone's gone, right?"

Furuichi stared up at his best friend. Yeah, he'd be safe here. He could trust Oga to wake him up when he had another nightmare, the same way he'd always trusted in Oga to come through for him. The thick knot of scar tissue on his back and chest right over his heart seemed to ache a little less when Oga was around.

Furuichi wondered vaguely what it had been like for Oga to see Lucifer rip out his soul. He probably would have just puked if their situations had been reversed, he thought as he shoved at his friend's shoulder for stealing one of his blankets for Beel. He would have tried to save him, of course, after gathering himself, but it would have been entirely hopeless. He'd barely been able to scratch Takamiya, even with the assistance of several demons.

Which wasn't surprising, really; he never been good at fighting, and had never wanted to be, until recently. His advantage had always been his intelligence and tactical mind, but looking back at the past few months, at the way Himekawa had pulled through for them in amazing ways with money and technology and brilliant strategies… Furuichi couldn't really fathom why anyone was even pretending that he was Ishiyama's General, because he sure as hell didn't feel like it.

"Oi!" Oga called, splaying his hand across Furuichi's face and pushing his head flat against the pillow. Furuichi flailed weakly. "Stop thinking and get that stupid look off your face. Go to sleep."

"Yeah," he said, offering a tired grin and batting away Oga's arm. He knew objectively that he was feeling so awful about himself right now because of exhaustion, and he seriously hoped he felt better after a nap – it wasn't like him to be so morose. He settled back into bed and pulled the nest of blankets more tightly around himself. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Oga seated on the foot of the bed, reclining against the wall with Beel curled up to his chest, his face arranged in its typical relaxed scowl. _Heh, Child-Rearing Badass indeed_.

_Thousands of faces stare up at him, pale and eager, proud and fierce. His heart swells, bursting, these people, HIS people, trusting and fervent and he will lead them to victory. They can do this, they can WIN, they can bury those filthy, pig-fucking savages and home will be home again and there will be peace.  
_

_Raise the arm, raise the spear, both strong, both flexible, both glinting with metal in the morning sun. The army meets his war cry with a fierce cacophony, echoes across the mountain, rides the wind, sharp and clear as their ice, reaches the enemy ears and makes them shiver and **dread**. Their combined armor and blades shine more brightly than the snow around them. _

_But then anything would shine more brightly than red and brown and grey – is it really snow when it's mostly blood and mud and crumpled bodies? _

_Thousands of faces stare up at him from the ground, but there's no pride in their eyes now. There's nothing._

_And now there's nothing in his eyes, either. Because there's nothing in his chest. Well, nothing that's his, anyway. Just a hand, a pretty lily-white hand, fine-boned and delicate and shattering his crushed ribs further and making him gasp and gurgle and BLEED– _

Firm hands shaking his shoulders jolted Furuichi into awareness. He sat up quickly, shaking and sweating with fear and revulsion, and forced his way out of the nest of blankets, pushing past Oga, and diving face-first into the nurse's sink to vomit. He was distantly aware of Oga shifting uncomfortably behind him and Baby Beel babbling quietly. When he was finished, he sank to the ground and leaned back against the counter, barely glancing over when his friend settled beside him.

"Are they always like that?" Oga muttered, pulling his son off his shoulder and into his lap to poke at baby-fat cheeks.

Furuichi made a vague noise of agreement. "Thanks for waking me. How long was I out?"

"Couple hours," Oga grunted. "You need more than that."

"Heh, you're telling me," he sighed despondently. "What I really need is to have never been kidnapped."

"…That was Glasses' fault, wasn't it."

Furuichi shrugged. "I mean, I guess, but I'm sure he didn't know how far Takamiya was willing to go. And it was a great plan, it just kinda sucks that I was collateral damage."

Oga didn't say anything, just kept poking distractedly at Beel's cheeks. The baby was starting to get fussy, but Oga did not seem to notice. Furuichi watched him a moment longer, unnerved by the silence and by the way Oga's eyes seemed a bit darker, before heaving himself up.

"C'mon, let's have lunch. I'm hungry. _Oga_," he repeated when his friend made no move to stand. The other man finally glanced up and settled Beel on his shoulder, rising to stalk out of the nurse's office.

Unfortunately, they had chosen precisely the wrong moment to leave to room. As soon as they stepped out, they walked right into the middle of a melee fight involving no less than twelve delinquents, all apparently fighting for the right to call the hallway their territory.

Oga had no problems navigating the horde, of course, batting flying thugs away like insects, clearing the path for Furuichi to follow. From his position up ahead, however, he was unable to see the metal pipe a thug threw at one of his opponents, which flew off course when it ricocheted comically off another punk's skull and headed straight at Furuichi.

Furuichi's gaze narrowed to a laser focus, his eyes trained on a spot three quarters of the way down the pipe. He followed that spot as it spun through the air, anticipating the trajectory and stretching to catch it right before his nose with a harsh smack of flesh on metal and a sudden sting that he had no time to contemplate. Without a second's pause, he brought the pipe down to his side and parallel to the floor, before pushing off the ground with both feet and twisting at the hips to smack a thug across the belly, the force of the hit sending him crashing into another.

Furuichi's momentum carried him through to the other side of the hallway, knocking another thug to the ground with a shoulder and elbow, then bringing the pipe up to jam the end of it into someone's solar plexus. With his feet planted firmly once more, he put all the force of his body's alignment into pushing the other up off the ground and back over Furuichi's shoulder.

That was the intention, anyway. Halfway to heaving the thug all the way across his back, Furuichi heard a sickening pop just before an incredible pain in the shoulder of his leading arm had him dropping both pipe and thug and falling to his knees.

"_Fuck_," he hissed, grasping at his shoulder as Oga became a sudden flurry of violent activity, planting each delinquent shoulder deep in the walls and ceiling. Less than a minute later, Oga was kneeling beside him, carefully pulling his hand away to check the injured shoulder.

"Furuichi, what the fuck was that? You weren't even using the demon tissues!"

"I dunno. Just- It was just automatic. Fuck, stop touching!" he yelped as Oga jostled the joint too roughly as he pulled off the thick layer of Furuichi's winter coat.

"Looks dislocated. Hold on, this'll hurt," the teen muttered, taking the arm and slowly rotating it, bracing with one hand and pulling steadily with the other, until the limb suddenly popped back into place. Furuichi couldn't quite bite down on an exclamation of pain.

"Sit here a sec, I'll get ice," Oga said, darting quickly back into the nurse's office to grab a bag of ice. He affixed the pack to the top of Furuichi's shoulder with a length of bandages, then used his own black jacket as a sling to support the sore joint.

"What did you mean 'automatic,'" Oga said, surveying his handiwork with an accomplished eye.

"It was weird," Furuichi responded, testing the knot the sleeves of the makeshift sling made behind his neck. "Like, I saw the pipe flying, and felt like I've seen it a thousand times, and then I just knew what to do. Heh, guess I just wasn't strong enough to follow through," he finished self-deprecatingly.

"Your body's not used to moving like that, not without a demon to help. S'why your shoulder got dislocated," Oga affirmed. He paused a bit before continuing. "…Think it had something to do with those dreams?"

Furuichi had already come to the same conclusion. "Mm. I think I use a spear when I fight in those memory nightmares, sometimes. Guess that's that shitty 'wisdom of a past life' Hilda was talking about."

"How the fuck is it wise if you just hurt yourself, eh?" Oga barked, poking harshly at Furuichi's good shoulder.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's why I asked how to make it stop."

"I'll ask Hilda again later," Oga promised as he settled against the wall beside Furuichi. The paler teen let his head fall back with a light _thunk_ against the crumbling plaster.

"Jesus, what a shitty day," Furuichi said with a laugh that edged on hysterical, bringing his good hand up to poke at the bandage covering the burn on his cheek. He still felt no pain from that particular injury, the cold numbing the damaging heat transfer. Actually, he mused, it was probably good for his shoulder that he was so cold. It would keep the swelling down.

Oga said nothing, but tilted his body more towards his Furuichi so that their shoulders brushed with each breath. They sat quietly for a long moment, surveying the field of planted thugs. One of them looked particularly artful, with his legs splayed at an elegant angle, colorful socks on display, and pants dusted with an intricate, abstract pattern of mortar. He said as much to Oga.

"Heh, what can I say?" the badass said modestly.

The rest of the day passed slowly and quietly, thankfully. Exhaustion and pain dragged at Furuichi's steps, but Oga didn't seem to mind the slower pace. No one bothered them for the rest of the day, not even any fools from other temporary schools who had gotten it into their heads to challenge Oga. A few times Furuichi saw someone make to step forward into their path, but each time a hand shot out and snagged the thug by the collar, dragging him into some dark side hallway like a low budget horror film. Once he was even sure he saw chains like Nene's burst from a classroom, tangle around the unlucky delinquent, and yank him into the shadowy doorway. Furuichi and Oga ignored the screams as par course for Ishiyama High.

When the final bell rang, Oga waved him off to Kanzaki and Co.'s company, saying he had something to take care of and ordering the three seniors to escort him home, much to his humiliation. Kanzaki growled something about uppity freshman but didn't object as he led them through the streets in the direction of Furuichi's house. The freshman did not want to know how they knew where he lived.

On the walk, Kanzaki and Shiroyama ignored him for the most part, while Natsume kept eyeing him with the same sort of intent curiosity a cat offers a caged bird. Furuichi had rarely been so eager to see his house. He accepted Kanzaki's parting nod and Shiroyama's grunt of 'Later,' thanking them for the escort.

He couldn't help the shiver that had nothing to due with cold when Natsume grinned brightly, patted him on his uninjured shoulder, and told him to take better care of himself, or he'd regret it.

* * *

AN: Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews! So by majority vote, this story will remain GEN. However, I might be posting alternative chapters separately that would be something like 'how would this scene go, if this story was slash…?' No promises about those though, I've got a lot on my plate already.

Also, I got a few reviews about people being unfamiliar with the Elder Scrolls video games. All you really need to know is that it's a series of fantasy RPGs with magic and swords and demons and gods and races other than humans. It also has a shit ton of history and backstory, which is what I'll be delving into here. The bits I'll be using will be explained throughout the story, so I won't spoil anything now. You don't need to have ever even played the games, as I won't be going into playable content. Anything that isn't obvious in the actual chapter content or requires a little more knowledge or the series, I'll clarify in author's notes.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Story Warnings: Some violence and strong language. Mentions of deceased OCs.

Disclaimer: If you recognize any names, terms, or concepts it's because they don't belong to me.

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CHAPTER 3 - Permafrost

Furuichi's mother had been understandably horrified when the son she was already concerned for came home from school one day with a burned face and dislocated shoulder, especially after the last couple of times he'd been laid up in bed with serious injuries in the past school year. It had taken some serious begging to keep her from immediately withdrawing him from Ishiyama.

She had insisted on a full inspection by a doctor, however, which ended up being a pointless visit. He had been unable to explain Furuichi's icy skin and normal body temperature, not that Furuichi expected him to, and had nothing to offer his burned cheek and aching shoulder except compliments to whomever had tended to him. And painkillers.

There was no progress on the nightmare front, either. Neither Hilda nor Alaindelon had any idea how to stop the integration of Furuichi's apparent past life. Not even Dr. Forcas, whom they'd been able to contact via Lamia, knew how to stop the memories from coming, although he had suggested that perhaps the energy exchange from a demon contract could mitigate the damage to his body and balance the fluctuating energies that came from his having his soul damaged. Furuichi had been less than receptive when Oga brought it up the next day.

Furuichi scoffed as he followed along beside Oga on the way to school. "Yeah, right, cuz there's a Demon Depot just down the road from my house, right next to Fiend Contract Suppliers, Inc. Where exactly do you guys expect me to get a demon from, huh?" Okay so he was just a little cranky. But to his credit, Oga just ignored his uncalled for sass.

"You've still got those tissues from the Demon Lord, right? Just use those, moron."

"Idiot! I can't go around with those shitty tissues stuffed up my nose all the time! That'll kill me!"

"So call one up and make a _proper_ contract with them, then," Oga said, rolling his eyes and giving Furuichi a look that said he was dumber than a rock.

Furuichi snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Exactly. Seriously, why don't you?"

Furuichi stared at him disbelievingly. "You seriously think any of them would have anything to do with me if those tissues didn't obligate them to come? Strong demons like the ones in Behemoth's Squad need a contractor with a strong body and a strong mind. I don't have either."

Oga just stared at him blankly. Over his shoulder, Baby Beel was giving him the same fish-eyed stare. He would have been amused by how much the demon prince was taking after Oga if not for the way their combined gaze was making him uncomfortable and frustrated. He felt his face heating up and he frowned, about to call his friend out on the weird look, when Oga pulled his eyes away and shook his head with a muttered, "Idiot Furuichi."

Yeah, okay, fuck that. Furuichi's scowl deepened, and he stiffened his good shoulder to ram Oga with all his might. The other man barely stumbled, but the returning push sent Furuichi careening into a brick wall.

And so the next week passed with Furuichi spending most of his time trying to sleep and failing, which didn't exactly help him heal any faster. He spent his days bullying fodder thugs into giving up their back row seats so he could doze undetected by teachers, something he found much easier since rumors of the way he had beaten up a bunch of delinquents in the hall outside the nurse's office had spread. Apparently, that hallway was now his territory (and Oga's, but then the whole school was his territory, and it was assumed that if he hadn't kicked you out, you had his permission to use the facilities), and every thug who had to use the nurse's office now made a point of asking his permission before going there. It was simultaneously empowering and annoying.

The irritation from that attention was only compounded by the more personal concern of the Saints crew, who seemed to dog his and Oga's steps wherever they went, sometimes blatantly in their company, and always at least marginally present. He couldn't blame them, really; it was sort of their job as unofficial underlings to look out for their leader, and Furuichi by extension, but Furuichi was tired and in pain and generally just very embarrassed and stressed, and would have preferred to be left alone to lick his wounds.

The reprieve he was hoping for came that Friday night.

For the first time in far too long, he didn't dream about blood and screams and glinting steel. Instead, he dreamt of luminous ice and howling wind, of strong, supple wood beneath his fingers, of twanging string and muscles burning with exertion. Massive gray mountains loomed in the distance, barely visible through clouds of swirling snow, and lovely pale figures danced across crisp white plains, and above it all, the glorious Sun shone His Light down upon them all.

Furuichi woke up tingling all over, feeling more energized than he had in weeks. He lay still for a long moment, reveling in the novelty of rejuvenation. He sighed contentedly as he arched his back a bit and wriggled his fingers and toes.

Wait.

Silver eyes snapped open. Just yesterday his digits had been too numb with cold to do anything vaguely suggestive of dexterity. With disbelief and hope warring brutally within his mind, he took note of the rest of his body. No shivers, no numbness. His teeth weren't chattering, and he was even sweating a bit under his heavy covers! He _wasn't cold anymore_.

Furuichi could have cried with relief, and if his next breath was rather more sob-like than he would have ever admitted, well, there was no one around to hear it. He shifted up to push off the thick quilts, and couldn't. He literally just couldn't move. At all. It felt like bands of steel were keeping his body pressed to the mattress. Panic bubbling in his chest, he raised his head feebly to stare down the length of his body.

_My sheets are sparkly_, he thought distantly, utterly mystified. He blinked his eyes several times to rid them of the film of sleep and relieved not-tears and refocused on the bed. Not steel, but _ice_. Thick, clear, glimmering ice encased his entire bed from just under his shoulders and spilled over the foot. Furuichi stared.

"Haha. Ha. Heh. Ah, I'm still dreaming then. Time to wake up, real me," he garbled, a rictus of disbelief stamped across his face. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into the flesh of his palm. He tried, and failed, to ignore the sharp sting that told him he was not asleep. He closed his eyes and wiggled a bit, then began to frantically thrash about. He cried out in frustration when the ice refused to crack. It was just too thick to break on his own; it was time to call in reinforcements.

"Mom! Hey, MOM! Help! Dad? Honoka, HEY!" No response. _Gaahh, where the hell are they!?_ A glance out the window told him; the sun was too high in the sky for it to be the early morning anymore. They had all left for work and school, by now. _Damn it, of all the days for Mom to let me sleep in for once!_

Okay, time for Plan C: call in different reinforcements. His phone was within easy reaching distance on the nightstand, provided he could get an arm free to grab it.

"Ahh, c'mon, come on, come _on_!" he chanted desperately, pressing his bad shoulder painfully against one side of his entrapment so that he could roll his good arm, twisting and wiggling, and finally loosening himself enough to let the arm slither out from beneath the sheets and ice. He stretched laboriously across to the nightstand, the rugged edge of the ice digging sharply into his side. He'd never been so relieved to wrap his fingers around the cool plastic of his phone.

He flipped it open and was immediately bombarded with notifications. Apparently, he had a missed call from Oga and half a dozen messages from Oga and three other numbers that he didn't recognize.

_Where are you_

_Oi, don't ignore me_

_Hey Furuchin, stop playing hooky! Ogacchi's too grouchy without you here! _That sounded like Hanazawa, a bit.

_Idiotidiotidiotidiot. _Oga again. Bastard.

_Hurry up and come in already. –Oomori _He grinned stupidly at the thought of the aloof Red Tail checking up on him.

_Okay?_ This last one wasn't signed and could have been from just about anyone.

He quickly saved the new numbers to his phone before calling Oga. The phone barely rang once before his best friend was picking up, a dark scowl in his voice.

"Where are you, idiot? Oi, shut up!" he called to the chattering voices in the background. "Why didn't you pick up?"

"I slept in. But look, I need help. I'm kind of stuck, and I can't-"

"Where are you."

"Um, home, but liste-"

"'Kay." Furuichi pulled the phone away and stared as the dial tone beeped at him. Well, at least help was on the way, he mused as he huffed and fell back against his cool pillow.

Fifteen minutes later, it was as though a herd of elephants had descended upon his house. A heavy fist knocked open the front door, and what was definitely more than one pair of feet stampeded into the entranceway and up the stairs. Oga burst through the bedroom door looking as though he'd run the whole way there, and froze when he saw Furuichi. Whoever had followed plowed directly into his back, and Furuichi ended up with a delinquent dog pile in the middle of his floor.

"Fuckers!" Oga barked as he bodily shoved Toujou, Kanzaki, Himekawa, Hanazawa, Oomori, and Shiroyama off his back. Baby Beel blew a raspberry at them, and Natsume stood in the doorway laughing at them all beside the somewhat less amused Kunieda and Tanimura. Their antics came to an abrupt halt when they finally caught sight of Furuichi, completely encased in ice. He grinned at them sheepishly.

"Well, I'm not cold anymore, at least!"

"Waah, what is this!" Hanazawa exclaimed, eyes wide. She crouched down next to his bed to poke curiously at the ice.

"I just woke up like this. I have no idea what happened," he explained helplessly.

Kanzaki moved over to kneel beside Hanazawa, confused and intrigued, and Toujou leaned over all three of them with a contemplative frown on his face. Oga pushed through the crowd.

"So I guess all the cold inside came out, or something? Whatever, time to get rid of it," he said decisively, pushing up a sleeve and readying his marked fist.

"No, don't just punch it! I'm under here, moron! The last thing I need is a stomach full of ice chunks!"

"Well then how are we supposed to get you out, eh?

"Hey Toujou, think you could borrow a jack hammer from one of your construction jobs?" Natsume laughed from the back of the room where he was using the wall to support himself as he hunched over with tremors of mirth. Furuichi watched in horror as a look of dawning enlightenment spread across Toujou's face.

"No! No jack hammers!

"Yeah, don't be stupid, Natsume. We need something stronger. Like a wrecking ball."

"Ah, Kanzaki! So brilliant!"

"Maybe Himekawa can get a bulldozer from somewhere…?" Shiroyama mused, an expression of intense concentration on his face.

There were tears of hilarity streaming down Natsume's face by now. Furuichi was becoming increasingly resigned to death via idiot delinquent.

"Excuse us!" Kunieda called from the back. Toujou stepped back, knocking Kanzaki and Hanazawa out of the way as well. The Red Tails' leader stepped forward along with Himekawa and Tanimura, each carrying a steaming pot.

"Hey, did you take those from my kitchen? Wait, wait, what's in those? Hey!" Furuichi yelped, suddenly very nervous.

"It's boiling water, we'll melt you out," Kunieda said calmly. "Don't worry, this isn't enough to melt all of it, so you won't get burned," she finished with a reassuring smile. He clenched his eyes shut and turned his head away as he listened to the hiss of boiling water meeting ice, and then grimaced as he felt lukewarm water soaking his sheets and pajamas.

"There," Kunieda said with a satisfied tone. "It should be thin enough where we poured around your chest to break with gentle force, and then you can just scoot out. _Gently_, Oga!" she reminded, as the thug stepped up to finish the job.

"Ah," he affirmed as he brought his fist down against the ice directly over Furuichi's sternum. Thin cracks spiderwebbed across the ice, and without pause, Oga forced his fist the rest of the way through, then grabbed the trapped teen under the arms and yanked him bodily out of bed.

"Oi, Glasses, grab him some dry clothes," Oga called, not taking his eyes off Furuichi as he examined him for anything resembling injury or discomfort.

"Thanks for the help," Furuichi said gratefully, offering a grin to the assorted delinquents gathered in his room.

"Hmph. Why was there even a situation like this in the first place?" Oomori said, disgruntled and confused, as she crossed her arms.

"Mm, this is really strange. Was it some demon, maybe, playing a trick? Targeting you as Oga's best friend again?" Kunieda wondered. Furuichi shook his head.

"I don't know why a demon would just mess with me like that and not do anything else," he said, accepting the t-shirt and sweatpants Himekawa silently handed him. "And anyway, that wouldn't explain why my body doesn't feel cold any more."

"Moron, I already said it. The cold just came out," Oga grunted. He punted a piece of broken ice off the floor at Furuichi's leg. The pale teen returned the favor with a swift kick to Oga's shin before bouncing back out of his friend's range and heading into the bathroom to change.

As he moved away, he heard Kunieda address Oga. "You really think Furuichi produced this ice by himself? He's not even contracted with a demon, and I don't think he has any demon blood."

"Eh. Apparently he was some kind of badass spear-waving military tactician in a past life. Maybe he was a magic one, too."

Furuichi snorted. He kind of wished it was true. That really did sound badass, when he put it like that. Now if only he could take the good without the bad, without the memories of death and dying and _grief_…

It wasn't until he was alone in the bathroom that Furuichi realized Himekawa had not said a word or even looked at him the whole time, even when handing him the outfit to change into, a pillar of silence among the chattering crowd of high school students. He finished dressing quickly and stepped back out to rejoin the group, grinning up at Toujou when the redhead patted him on the shoulder with a muttered "Okay?" He navigated the small crowd as they funneled out of his house, making a point to gravitate towards Himekawa as they emptied out onto the street.

"Hey, senpai. Thanks for coming all the way out here," he grinned as they moved down the street in the direction of the school.

He watched, bemused, as Himekawa stared at him blankly for a moment, started to open his mouth, then merely grunted at him and walked past. Furuichi stepped up next to Natsume and spoke to him quietly.

"Hey, is Himekawa alright? He's been really quiet today. The last few days, actually," he murmured into the taller man's ear. Natsume turned to stare at him disbelievingly.

"Well, yeah, because Oga beat the shit out of him," the senior said.

"Wha- Why would he do that? And anyway, Himekawa's not bruised at all."

"Heh. Our badass leader punished him for getting you hurt with Takamiya. Couldn't let it show, though, because we can't afford to show anything but a united front, with Fuji still out there, so he just went for the torso."

"But why would he do that? Himekawa did a good job, it was a really sound strategy. I mean, yeah, I- I got hurt," _don't think about it, don't THINK_, "but we won that battle because of him. A-and it was better than anything I came up with," he finished dimly.

He looked up to see Natsume with an odd expression on his face, vaguely confused, as though Furuichi was some puzzle whose words he couldn't quite parse. The look made him uncomfortable, so Furuichi tried to laugh off his previous words and glum tone. He felt pretty good about the smile he was able to force, but Natsume's frown deepened anyway.

"He screwed up. Badly. You _died_, just like you told Oga before. It took a while to sink in that it was Himekawa's fault, I guess. He's the one who apologized, you know, that day with the boiler. He came up to Oga when you were sleeping and bowed his head. It was pretty remarkable," Natsume laughed darkly. "He kicked his ass after school, then told him not to talk to you or anything until he found a suitable way to apologize."

"I don't blame him for anything," he protested.

"You should. The rest of us do. After all, where would we be without our General?" Natsume gave him a vague smile and then _ruffled his hair_. Furuichi scowled at the teasing and knocked his hand away, grumbling under his breath and backing away in case the senior tried it again. His tactical retreat had him backing up into Oga.

"Thought anymore about getting a demon?" the taller man grunted, hands stuffed in his pockets and slouched indolently as he watched Furuichi from the corner of his eye.

"Um. No." He spoke blankly, a little surprised, and a little thoughtful, now. The whole ice thing had him terribly confused, and while he didn't really buy into Oga's theory that the power had _come from inside him_, it probably wouldn't hurt to have a powerful supernatural being watching over him. He shrugged the thoughts away, no use contemplating the impossible, after all. Furuichi was quite sure he would make a poor contractor, and was equally sure any potential contractees knew it too.

"You're really stupidly stubborn sometimes, you know that?" Oga made a move to shove him, and Furuichi retaliated with a swift karate chop to his dark head.

"No, I'm just not stupid enough to put stock in a plan that won't work."

Oga just rolled his eyes and kept walking, Furuichi keeping even with his pace by his side. Occupied with bantering with his friend, he didn't notice how the rest of the Saints crew gradually fell behind them, and what was once a mob of delinquent teenagers became an entourage of loyal followers trailing respectfully behind a king and his general.

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AN: Sup peeps. Sooo out of absolutely nothing more than simple curiosity, no really, do you guys spell the name Hecadoth or Hecados or Hecatos? Or Hecatoth, I guess, if follow the pattern, but I don't think it I've ever seen it spelled that way…

Also, it's been a month since Beelzebub ended… My weeks feel so empty now that we're not getting chapters every Thursday :*( I'll look forward to the spin-off series, though!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

Story Warnings: Some violence and strong language. Mentions of deceased OCs.

Disclaimer: If you recognize any names, terms, or concepts it's because they don't belong to me.

* * *

CHAPTER 4 - Frenzy

Furuichi sat at his desk in the back of the room, staring idly out the window and twirling a pen between his fingers. He was pretty sure there was a teacher somewhere in the classroom he should have been paying attention to, but he didn't think he'd be able to hear the lesson even if he tried, over the raucous voices of the other delinquents in the classroom. He resolutely not-pouted at the reality of being back in school after the previous weekend.

The whole crew had ended up just wandering around town that day, skipping class, loitering until shopkeepers shook their fists, mocking other students through classroom windows, and overtaking any arcade they came across, while Kunieda did her best to temper their antics. The weekend had passed in a similar way, with he and Oga just goofing off and playing video games part of the time, and walking around bumping into other thugs the rest of the time. It was blessedly normal, and Furuichi couldn't have said how much that familiarity eased his mind. More than perhaps anything else, being able to wander around in nothing more than a light jacket to ward off the early spring chill and left Furuichi feeling giddy and hopeful.

That hope was unfortunately short-lived; despite the reprieve a few days prior, Furuichi was back to nightmare-based insomnia by the time Tuesday rolled around. He grumbled a bit as his gaze dropped from the window. Noon was approaching, and his eyelids were starting to sag – a quick nap before lunch would do him some good, maybe.

_Seven around a fire, five wounded, three basically children, all of them thin and starving and full of fury and revenge and nothing else. Lost four in the raid today, lost four precious allies against those pigs, THOSE FILTHY VERMIN, scourge on the land, but if _they_ were the savages then why weren't they the ones scavenging for roots and dying of exposure?_

_Third Unit wiped out yesterday, Fifth the week before, didn't know about the Sixth, would have to find them later, see how they were faring. Only four more like this one left, it was always a losing game, had been since the Prince fell. But it was **fucking worth it**, to break the savages, cut the supply lines, raid the villages, ambush the remaining troops. _They_ had won the war, but Fainor and his people would make them regret it. But later. It's time for rest, now. Rest and mourning.  
_

_So he sits listens watches sighs. These are boys here, young and feverish with revenge. They weren't at Moesring, they didn't know hopelessness. He's taking advantage. He doesn't care. _

_There's a commotion, the boys across the fire fall back, stumble, trip – cute little pups, so awkward and stumbly, not so cute when they die, though – and they scream. He starts to turn, he heard nothing, why are they scared? But nope, can't, face in the dirt, weight on the back, needle claws and crushing feet, can't breath, crushed nose, heavy-wet-hot-rancid-_dripping_ breath in his ear._

_He hears more than feels the wet elastic snap of a spinal chord as great yellow teeth rip into his flesh._

Furuichi jolted up with a choking sob, stumbled out of his seat where he had fallen into a doze on the desk, and collapsed to the ground, pressed into the corner at the back of the room. He immediately curled, pressing his forehead to his upturned knees, a hand clamped over his mouth the keep in the bile and stomach acid that burned the back of his throat and tingled across his tongue.

And then something else, something immense, was burbling up from his abdomen, and he saw from the corner of his tearing eyes that Nene – _she's not a freshman, why was she in here? – _ had jumped half out of her chair upon seeing him wake. She looked terrified, he thought distantly, eyes wide and lips trembling. Her hand stretched vaguely towards him, red painted nails glaring at him like life-blood.

His shoulders were vibrating, heavy with the force of the entity he tried to contain, but it was no use. What emerged was not sobs or vomit or enraged shrieks, but deep, rasping laughs. He absolutely _howled_ with morbid hysteria, dimly aware of Nene backing away nervously and of the door slamming open as more footsteps and voices rushed in.

He quaked with jerking, keening cries as he relived his first death. It wasn't fucking _fair_ that he should have to experience his life cutting out _twice_, and then countless times more in his dreams.

"A _wolf_," he heaved, "It was just a wolf_._ Not even a pack of the fuckers, just one! Jesus, of everything that could have done me in. Trolls, bears, rogues, _the_ _Men's army… _Gods, how fucking _pathetic_ is that? Hahaha!" He couldn't contain his hysteria. It was just so _fucking ironic_. He had faced death countless times, in avalanches and rockslides and training accidents in his youth, the violent early conflicts and battles, the _actual_ war, the guerrilla warfare he'd instigated in the aftermath. But it was nothing more than a single feral beast that had finally taken him out.

"Oi, Furuichi, snap out of it!" He heard the words and smelled the pomade only distantly, and when a hand smacked at his cheek, it offered not a reprieve from the memories, but a reminder of the wretched three days he had once been held by enemy forces before his soldiers had mounted a masterful assault to free him.

_Get the fuck AWAYFROMME-_

And there was a terrible rush from his outstretched hands, so cold it burned and left him drained and weak. He heard a startled exclamation and opened his eyes to see an utterly silent crowd of thugs surrounding him with a wide berth of several feet. Himekawa was at the forefront, sprawled out on his back, limbs akimbo and glasses askew, where Oga had apparently grabbed the collar of his shirt and hauled him backwards, away from the meter long icicle now imbedded in the floor. A piece of fabric from the senior's flowered shirt had been skewered by the projectile.

They were all silent for a long moment, casting the same horrified gaze at the jagged frozen fang that had nearly punctured Himekawa through the middle. The only sound echoing through the alarmed hush was the senior's loud, panicked breathing.

"You are not okay," Oga said, breaking the silence as he dropped Himekawa's collar, stepping past the senior and the icicle to kneel in front of his friend.

"Oga, I…" Furuichi gasped. It was a different sort of panic settling into his chest, now. Before it had been a mindless, terrified, overwhelmed hysteria. The feeling now clenching at his rapidly beating heart was cold and numb and creeping, a promise of future dread rather than a reminder of the same.

"C'mon, you can't stay here." The dark haired teen gripped his upper arm and lifted Furuichi to his feet, dragging him through the crowd that shifted immediately to let them pass. Furuichi resisted briefly, casting a glance at where Himekawa had yet to rise from the floor.

"Senpai, I'm so, _so_ sorry, I–" He didn't know what he wanted to say, but he was unable to finish regardless, as Oga continued pulling him out of the classroom. He was able to catch a glimpse of Himekawa nodding at him, and felt a rush of relief at the apparent forgiveness.

"What the fuck was that, Furuichi," Oga said, worryingly calm. He had taken them to the nurse's office, for some reason. Furuichi hoped it wasn't in anticipation of making him take a nap again. That had been marginally humiliating.

"It was- it was a really bad one, this time. Found out how I died before, and then it freaked me out when he touched me," he responded quietly, leaning back against the door.

"Yeah, that's pretty fucking obvious. Look, that doctor thinks you'll get better if you make a contract, so _make a fucking contract already!_" Oga snarled, calm breaking, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him. Furuichi knocked his hands away harshly.

"_I know, Oga!_ You think I _like_ being like this? It was bad enough when it was just _me_, but now I'm hurting other people with this bullshit too! It's not okay, and _I'm_ not okay, and I don't know what to fucking do!"

"You could stop acting like such a fucking coward, for a start! I know you, dumbass, it's not that you don't think a demon won't make a contract with you, it's that you're scared of asking and finding out it's true and it's _pathetic_!"

"Well so fucking _what_ if I'm not exactly eager for more confirmation that I'm useless and weak and worthless!"

"Where's this shit coming from, Furuichi? You didn't used to have this fucked up opinion of yourself! Now you're just all 'boo-hoo, I'm a wimpy little _shit_ that can't even wipe my own _ass_!' Man _up_, goddamnit!"

"Fuck you, Oga!"

"No, fuck _you!_"

The argument rapidly devolved from there, with both boys yelling "Fug 'ou!" as loudly as possible from where they were rolling on the ground, pinching and clawing at each other's cheeks and mouths. It ended when Oga accidentally planted his knee in Furuichi's abdomen, knocking the breath out of him and stealing the 'Fuck You!' from his voice.

"Hah, I win!" Oga crowed, shifting to twine his arm around Furuichi's neck in a suffocating chokehold. A swift, brutal pinch to Oga's side had the smaller teen squirming out of his friend's grip and kicking at his ankle petulantly. Oga just snorted and threw a heavy arm back over Furuichi's shoulder, half-dragging him outside.

"C'mon, you can buy me ice cream."

"Buy your own ice cream, moron!" Furuichi yelped as he struggled under his friend's arm. Despite his outward preoccupation, he couldn't help but wonder at how easily Oga had dropped the subject of him getting a demon, especially after this latest breakdown. He had to hand it to his friend, though – a good screaming match had certainly drained him of his panicked energy and calmed his nerves. He tried not to think too deeply on whether Oga had just been trying to provoke a response from him, or if he really thought Furuichi was being a coward.

The next few days passed with an uncomfortable number of nervous looks from the Ishiyama students. They tiptoed around him and kept absolutely, utterly silent whenever he dozed, and the uncharacteristic reservedness frustrated and disheartened him enough that he opted to just skip whenever he was tired, retiring to the nurse's office or the roof to nap. He couldn't help but notice the way thugs tensed when he approached, and relaxed as soon as he had passed. Normally he might have been proud of provoking such a reaction, but knowing their nervousness stemmed from fear of his instability rather than his influence left a sour taste in his mouth.

All of that was nothing, however, compared to the hurt that came from the Saints crew's trepidation. They still spoke to him just as frequently, and still dogged his and Oga's tracks, but yet their eyes lingered on him, and their words were quiet and calm and inoffensive and it was just so brutally obvious that they were trying not to set him off, that the frustration would probably give him a breakdown sooner than anything else.

Three days after his collapse, it was not some terrible memory-dream that wrenched Furuichi from sleep, for once. This time, it was the unmistakable feeling of being watched, of an intruder encroaching on his personal space. Furuichi's eyes shot open, heart pounding, and he tried – and failed – to wrest himself into a sitting position. His blankets had become thoroughly encased in ice again during the night – though less so than before – and as he flailed, trying to free himself, he became entangled in the stiff, cold blanket and tumbled unceremoniously onto the ground, right at the boot-clad feet of the intruder. He glanced up, eyes following the long uniformed body to stare directly into Hecadoth's unamused face.

"What are you doing?" the demon said blankly. Furuichi frowned up at him, still struggling to free himself from the fabric.

"That's my question! What do you think you're doing, watching me sleep?" he grumbled back. "And would you _please_ give me a hand, here?"

Hecadoth snorted long-sufferingly, but complied. He grabbed a corner of the blanket and yanked harshly, sending Furuichi rolling out onto the floor. "Heard you're in the market for a contract. I want in."

Furuichi stared up at him, flabbergasted. "You…you what? How did you even know…?"

"I overheard Laymia's kid telling the doctor. I wanted to get here and stake a claim before any of the other pillars found out. I wasn't _watching_ you," he growled at the end.

"Why do you even _care_? Or- or the rest of Behemoth's squad? And what do you mean, 'stake a claim?'" Furuichi said, becoming increasingly flustered. He just really, _really_ didn't get it.

Hecadoth just stared at him with a strange look on his face, sort of partway between confused and aghast, Furuichi thought. He watched the expression settle into one he was more familiar with, especially of late, but was no less confused by: it was the expression everyone wore when they thought he was being stupid. And Furuichi was starting to get really fucking sick of seeing it. Hecadoth opened his mouth to respond, but he seemed to freeze suddenly, posture becoming ram-rod straight and eyes darting to stare piercingly out the window.

"There's no time to explain, others have arrived. Quickly, form a contract with me, I _will_ be your primary!" the demon snarled, surging forward and down to kneel in front of Furuichi, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Wait! Wait, what the hell is going on, here, Hecadoth? I-"

"I'll explain everything _later_, although I shouldn't need to! Do you want a contract or not?" he broke in loudly. Furuichi had only barely uttered a sound reminiscent of agreement when Hecadoth's jaw clamped shut quite suddenly with a visceral _squelch_. Furuichi watched, the beginnings of horror touching his mind, as a thick stream of dark blood spilled from Hecadoth's lips. The demon's mouth opened wide and he lurched forward lightning-fast, teeth sinking deeply into the flesh of Furuichi's shoulder right through the cloth of his shirt. It _hurt_, a ferocious burning radiating rapidly from the wound and spreading through his entire body, setting his veins on fire.

The teen howled, knocked his fists against the demon's chest and shoulders, to no avail. His pain and panic were beginning to cloud his mind with a white haze when he felt a warm tongue lave against the wound, and the sharp, stinging pain withdrew with a cool wave from his limbs and faded to a vague sort of ache in his shoulder. His straining body relaxed with the retreat of the pain, leaving his muscles sore and twitching. Hecadoth backed away slowly, their combined blood spilled onto his chin. His hands still held fast to Furuichi's shoulders, but the grip was no longer bruising, just firm, almost supportive. The demon was staring at him hesitantly, face flushed and pupils dilated. He seemed about to speak when a loud voice broke through the fog of Furuichi's mind.

"Fucking _hell_, Heca, you could've waited for all of us to get here! You know, so he could _choose_?" Agiel exclaimed from Furuichi's bed, where she had apparently just burst in through the window. Behind her, two other figures clambered in, knocking elbows and shoving at each other with snarls. Hecadoth snorted.

"Please. Like you wouldn't have taken advantage if you had gotten here first. Same to you two, Graphel and Yata. You were just too slow to get primary."

"Contain your arrogance in front of a superior, General," Yata said blandly, somehow managing to convey incredible disdain through his dead-fish expression. "As the highest rank here, I claim secondary," he stated, stepping down off the bed and moving towards Furuichi in a way that seemed terribly foreboding. Furuichi gasped and tried to shuffle backwards, but was stopped by Hecadoth's brick wall of a body.

"Stop! Just- just back off! What do you want?! Any of you! What the _fuck_ is going on?" he exclaimed. He could feel his breathing start to pick up alarmingly because seriously, _why was his room being invaded by fucking strong demons that all apparently wanted something from him?!_

_Calm down,_ a voice murmured to him. _We did not come to do you harm._

_H-Hecadoth…?_

_Yeah. It's one of the conditions I set in the contract, that we can talk like this, mentally. _Before he could ask any more questions, Hecadoth spoke aloud. "Leave him alone for now. He didn't know we would be coming. It's freaking him out. He won't be able to accept more contracts until he calms down."

_Stop making it sound like I'm panicking!_

_You are absolutely panicking._

"The fuck d'you mean, he didn't know? Laymia's brat told everyone that this kid wanted contracts," Graphel growled. Agiel had plopped down brazenly on his bed, legs spread obscenely, and was regarding him bemusedly, while Yata just…stood. Perfectly still, staring at him blankly. It was fucking creepy.

"Let's hold off on explanations until the rest of the pillars arrive," Hecadoth suggested. Agiel grinned.

"Sure. I'm not gonna complain about watching you two cuddle over there. It's fucking adorable," she cackled. Furuichi started, realizing he had never moved away from Hecadoth after trying to run from Yata. He tore himself from the demon's light grip on his hip and scooted back against the wall, where he could keep all four demons easily within sight. Not like it would do any good, really; they could squash him as easily as he could an ant.

He had only just settled back and was about to make a grab for his day clothes when an immense pressure crashed down upon him. He gasped and huddled in on himself and then Hecadoth was there beside him, just sitting, his leg and shoulder brushing Furuichi's. The minimal contact seemed to diminish the terrifying force weighing on him.

_That's Jabberwock_, came Hecadoth's disembodied voice. _You probably couldn't completely feel him before, with the tissue contracts. The power exchange for those was muddied for general use. You won't feel it as much once you contract with him._

The pressure was growing, growing, crushing down on his shoulders. He could hear the footsteps now, steady and even, making their way up his stairs, and there was Jabberwock, massive scarred frame filling the doorway. The demon commander had to duck significantly to keep his head from punching through the ceiling.

"We meet again, kid," the demon commander growled. Furuichi gulped nervously, eyes wide as saucers. He tried to offer some kind of non-threatening yet self-assured gesture, but ended up with a pained grimace badly disguised as a grin contorting his face. Jabberwock stalked closer, his immense body forcing the other demons to hug the walls as he passed. A giant hand shot out disproportionately fast and took hold of Furuichi's collar, dragging him up to his feet. The demon's face surged up before his own, eyes trained on his bloodied shoulder. Jabberwock took a deep sniff and growled, turning on Hecadoth.

"Hecadoth, you little bastard. You're too full of yourself."

"I don't regret it, sir," the smaller demon said, staring his commander dead on, tone ringing with something that was not quite challenge, but very nearly. Jabberwock snorted.

"Nothing for it now, except to kill you, I guess. Good thing you're too useful for that," he grunted. "Come on, we're heading back. You too, kid."

"What? Where? I- I have school in the morning!"

"Bullshit, it's Friday. We're abducting you for the weekend."

"Oh my god," he said faintly. Jabberwock released a bark of coarse, caustic laughter.

"There's no god here, boy."

* * *

AN: Hey guys. So you may have noticed a vague hint of HecaxFuru here, and that's because this was one of the first scenes I wrote, before I asked for opinions on whether to make this story romance or gen. I quite liked the scene and opted not to take out those hints, but I promise nothing will come of it in the rest of the story.

Also, don't expect the next chapter for some time - I'm quite swamped with work at the moment.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed, have a nice weekend~


	5. Chapter 5

Story Warnings: Some violence and strong language. Mentions of deceased OCs.

Disclaimer: If you recognize any names, terms, or concepts it's because they don't belong to me.

* * *

Chapter 5 - Macao

The next half hour passed in a blur of dimensional transfers and darkened, upside-down scenery, from where Jabberwock had thrown Furuichi across his shoulder after becoming frustrated with how slowly the teen was walking. For all that the demon was basically a walking monolith of muscle, his shoulder was quite bony, and it had dug uncomfortably into Furuichi's belly.

Now, he was sat in a plush red armchair in the middle of some kind of lounge room, surrounded on all sides by glowering hell-dwellers. The group of demons that had come to collect him was all there, but several more had joined the procession through dark stone halls by the time they had reached what Agiel mentioned was the squad's break room. All of the pillar Barons had eventually shown up and claimed chairs of their own, and about a dozen other Generals had squeezed in as well, bickering over the last few chairs and leaning against the walls. Even Behemoth had passed by, snickering and waving mockingly before tottering off, muttering something under his breath about over-eager youngsters.

A number of demons had shot Hecadoth nasty looks as they made their way in, but Jabberwock's overwhelming presence was enough to deter any legitimate fights. Despite the lack of overt violence, it was nonetheless a small room filled to the brim with the powerful and aggravated members of a demonic military unit. And Furuichi was in his pajamas in the middle of it all. He sank deeper into the chair, trying to become invisible but failing miserably. He was the focus of the squad's attention, after all, although he was still trying to come to terms with the intensity of their interest.

Jabberwock waited quietly for a few more minutes, blandly watching all the demons who entered the room, before finally speaking up.

"Right, all of you shut the fuck up and settle down." All commotion ceased immediately. Furuichi wondered it was like to command that level of respect.

"You guys all recognize this kid. He's the partner of Prince Beelzebub IV's contractor, and the one who was able to use mine and my old man's power within half an hour, with a few other contracts before and in between. And now he's willing to accept permanent contracts, so you better be damn well sure _we're_ gonna take advantage.

"Most of you will only be a part of the unit contract we're going to form. Me and a couple others will make personal contracts. We're here to decide who those are," Jabberwock grunted. Rustling echoed through the room as demons grumbled and shifted discontentedly. One finally spoke up audibly.

"Sir, he was fine to cycle through contracts before, why can't we all have personal contracts?" called the massive, bearded demon. Furuichi couldn't quite see his face through the cloud of cigar smoke surrounding him, but thought the demon's name might have been Basilisk.

"He's good, but not that good. The strain'll kill him faster than those tissues would have."

"Let's not complain about most not having a personal contract. It's quite amazing that all of us could be part of any contract with him at all," said a demon that looked like an older Lamia.

"Right. So, brat, obviously I'll be your secondary, since Hecadoth jumped the gun and took primary. Any thoughts for your third, fourth?"

Furuichi started. "You mean I actually get a choice in this?"

"You're the one who finally decided to accept contracts, don't act like you've got no say," the massive commander growled. Furuichi paled and flinched back, averting his eyes.

"Sir, he didn't know when I showed up that we were aware of his availability," Hecadoth broke in. A few demons bared their teeth at the sound of his voice, but Hecadoth seemed to take the hostility in stride. If anything, he seemed a little smug at the attention.

Jabberwock paused for a moment and briefly averted his eyes from Furuichi, whom he'd been staring at the whole time, to the smaller demon.

"The fuck do you mean, he didn't know?"

"He was genuinely confused when I arrived, sir, and had no idea that we might be aware he was interested in forming contracts. Or that we might be interested in accepting the offer." There was confused muttering around the room, and Jabberwock's frown deepened. Furuichi was mildly terrified.

"Oi, kid. Why didn't you know we were coming?"

"I– I just didn't? I mean, it's not like I put the word out, or anything. I don't know why Lamia was spreading rumors."

"She must have gotten the idea somewhere, brat."

Furuichi paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, and also to consider the young demon's actions. It had been weeks since Dr. Forcas had recommended forming a demonic contract, so why were they only showing up now? There was no time to contemplate further, though, because the way Jabberwock was staring at him gave Furuichi the impression that the squad commander considered 'patience' as valuable and useful as a rash on his privates.

"Well, um. Hecadoth, and Agiel, you guys know I fought Lucifer and the spellmaster she's contracted with, right? Or, well, not so much fought, as got my ass handed to me and my soul torn out, ripped up, and eaten?"

There was a low whistle from somewhere in the room.

"Yeah, well apparently the whole thing jumbled me up spiritually, and I've been having supernatural issues lately," he said with a vague, dismissive wave of his hand. "Dr. Forcas said that forming a contract with a demon might help somehow. That's how Lamia knew. I… didn't think I'd be able to make a contract, though, so I don't know what's up with you guys," he shrugged.

"What's up with us is that there's no fucking way we're missing out on a sweet deal like this," Agiel grinned.

"That's not– I mean, why do you even want the contracts in the first place?"

"Having a contract with a human makes it infinitely easier to traverse the dimensions, and allows full access to our powers regardless of the dimension. Having you, the contractor, in the human world makes you an invaluable anchor that we can hone in on, almost entirely removing the need for a dimensional transfer demon. That you are able to serve as that anchor for an entire military squad is almost unheard of, and is _very_ convenient," Quetzacoatl called from the back of the room. He towered over the rest of the crowd, apparently having made a seat out of the interlinked arms of Vabam and Schethalim.

"What makes me a good anchor, though? Why do you want _me_?" Furuichi asked a bit desperately.

"You're so _strange_," Salamander murmured, not entirely answering his question, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and regarding Furuichi with a broad, eerie smile. "You're a perfectly average human, but you have such resilience to demonic power. You've been able to withstand Prince Beelzebub IV's electricity, you were able to accommodate for the vastly different powers of multiple demons within a very short amount of time, you were even able to successfully hold contracts with our commanders. _Strange_."

"Well, not so average anymore," he said, choosing to ignore the bit about 'resilience' until he had the chance to contemplate that further. "Last week, I woke up encased in several inches of ice, and a few days ago I almost skewered a classmate with a giant icicle."

"Oh~ That sounds like fun," Agiel grinned into his ear from where she had draped herself over the back of his chair.

"Ice, huh. Naga's the best at dealing with that. Hear that, pipsqueak? You'll get tertiary," Jabberwock grunted.

"Thank you, sir!" Naga said, eyes widening slightly as his posture became somehow even stiffer. The pillars seated around him directed ferocious glares in the small demon's direction.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, the kid can probably take one more personal contract. I'll let the rest of you bastards make your cases to me and the kid, now." There was an instant uproar. Demons were immediately roaring and thrashing, trying to get close to talk to Furuichi and Jabberwock, and striking one another as they interfered. Furuichi paled and shrunk back as spittle and blood flecked across his arm. Hecadoth shifted from his position beside the chair and moved in front of Furuichi, blocking him from view.

Furuichi could not see his face, but he heard a guttural snarl from the demon as he whipped out a fist and punched a General that Furuichi did not recognize across the jaw, sending the other flying back into the crowd. The display of power seemed to simultaneously enrage and unsettle the other demons, who all snarled at him but made no move to approach again. Instead, they called out to Furuichi, voices all pitched to reach his ears over the cries of the others demons, creating a terrible symphony of guttural voices and furious roars. And then it stopped.

Furuichi remembered the first graphically violent anime movie he'd seen as a child. He couldn't remember the title anymore, but he would never forget the awe he'd felt when the hero of the story – some nameless samurai, alone against the world – had taken on a whole battalion of fully armored enemies. The hero had sliced through armor, flesh, and bone, again and again, as easily as if cutting butter with a hot knife, decapitating and bisecting bodies left and right with imperceptible effort. And Furuichi was reminded of that impossible blade as a single, faint hum rang out across the room, slicing through the cacophony and settling the room into a thick, tense silence.

Every head turned to the simple wooden stool back by the coffee machine, upon which was daintily perched the pink-haired demoness who had spoken up earlier, and who had just cleared her throat. Her shoulders were relaxed, her posture dignified, her smile kind and gentle, but her eyes were inexorable and vicious and promised just as much bloodshed as that childhood movie had splashed about generously.

"Commander, I think it would be in the squad's best interests if I was granted the quaternary contract."

_Weren't you the one who scolded everyone for complaining about not getting a personal contract, like, ten minutes ago?!_ Inner Furuichi screeched. Outer Furuichi was far too intimidated to do anything but try to meld into his chair.

"Granted, Laymia," Jabberwock grunted, seeming unaffected by the sheer violence she was emitting. He slapped his thighs and stood. "Alright, that's that. You ready for more contracts now, kid?" he said, already moving over to Furuichi. The teen threw his arms up defensively.

"Look, guys, just wait. This…isn't really going to work, is it?" Furuichi ventured. It was something that had bothered him since Hecadoth had first appeared in his room back home, and he knew he had to bring it up before things got too much more out of control. He started to rise out of his chair, but a sudden spike in pressure from Jabberwock had him sinking back down, trembling.

"_The fuck do you mean_." His growl was low and deep and it pierced him to the bone. The demons around him weren't unaffected, either. Agiel sagged more fully against his chair, and Hecadoth swallowed audibly beside him. Even those further away seemed to lean more against the walls or their own chairs.

"It– it's an issue of allegiance," Furuichi persevered, trying to swallow but finding his throat dry and his tongue thick. "My loyalty belongs to Oga, who is Baby Beel's father, so of course I support Beel as the next Demon Lord. But you guys support En." He hadn't been interrupted yet, he thought gratefully, and that gave him confidence. He shifted a bit under the terrifying pressure of Jabberwock's power and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. He stared straight at the demon commander, although he kept his gaze focused on the demon's eyebrows, not quite confident (or suicidal) enough to meet his dark, furious eyes. He pressed on, unaware of the compelling image he made, bright-eyed and intent even in the face of an enraged monster.

"I will do everything in my power to oppose you if you try to harm Oga or impede Beel. Do not doubt that for a moment. You guys might think that having me as a contractor places you in a good position to use my friendship with Oga against him, but remember that I'll also be in position to deny you access to the human world and to report your movements to _our_ army, for counteraction. That kind of mutual distrust doesn't make for a good partnership, does it." He did not phrase it as a question.

The pressure Jabberwock was emitting lightened a bit, and the massive demon surveyed him quietly, intently. He spoke after a moment.

"Our loyalty lies with Lord En, regardless of whether he is our official sovereign. Nothing will ever change that. However, the Demon Lord has officially declared Prince Beelzebub IV as his successor. We are bound to serve him as our future king. The Demon Lord has further issued an order of noninterference with the prince's activities in the human world," Jabberwock said, his voice monotone, but his eyes alight with something Furuichi could not identify.

Furuichi surveyed him, looking for any hint of lying. He did not think Jabberwock was much for deception; he gave the impression of being a fighting idiot like Oga and Toujou, but he would not be the commander of Behemoth's Pillar Squad without having some mind for tactics, right? He could not definitively assess the demon's honesty right now, however, as he knew almost nothing about him. What he did know was that he had make the decision right now, in this moment, of whether to take a leap of faith. He did not notice the hushed, anticipatory silence that resounded through the room, every demon starkly intent on the confrontation and waiting with baited breath for his response.

"…Then there's no problem."

"Excellent." A slow, vicious smile spread across Jabberwock's face, and he resumed stalking over to Furuichi. "Naga, Laymia. Up here," he called offhandedly as he reached forward and snagged Furuichi's collar. With a single, sharp motion, too fast for Furuichi's eyes to follow, he ripped his hand away. The seams of the shirt tore with the sudden, sharp force, and Furuichi yelped as the fabric of the collar dug into the back of his neck. The shredded shirt came away with the demon commander's hand, leaving the teen half-naked. He was too shocked by the sudden move to be modest. A low whistle caught his attention.

"Whew, Heca. That's a helluva contract. It's so _big~_" Agiel cooed, poking at his shoulder which Hecadoth had bitten, now caked with dried blood. Furuichi turned his head to try to assess the damage. He could clearly see a set of puncture marks from the demon's teeth in the very middle of a replica of the mark tattooed onto Hecadoth's face. He was surprised to see how large it was, so much more so than Oga's contract mark. The shorter arms of the symbol stretched across the width of his shoulder, from the base of his neck to the shoulder joint, and the longer arms darkened the flesh of his left pectoral, almost down to his nipple. He assumed it stretched the same distance down his back.

"Little shit," Jabberwock muttered. "He would have been able to make more than four personal contracts if you hadn't been so stingy, Hecadoth." The demon offered no response to the accusation, only allowing his answering smirk to err on the side of extremely fucking smug. Almost imperceptibly fast, Naga's arm whipped out to land a small, but heavy, fist in Hecadoth's gut. He doubled over, gasping, but his smile did not fade. Jabberwock rolled his eyes and turned to regard Naga and Laymia.

"My contract's going on his right hand. Pick your own places," Jabberwock said to Naga and Laymia.

"Do you have a preference, Furuichi?" Laymia questioned. Whatever violent bloodlust she had displayed earlier had faded, and the warm smile she gave him was reflected in her spring-green eyes. Furuichi sighed despondently.

"No, anywhere's fine. S'not like I'll ever be able to wear a swimsuit in public after this. Everyone's gonna think I'm some kind of punk…"

"You _are _some kind of punk," Hecadoth snorted, rolling his eyes. Furuichi scowled at him.

"Then I'll mark your left upper arm," Laymia said, just as Naga muttered, "right shoulder."

Almost simultaneously, the three demons brought a gloveless hand to their mouths and sliced open a finger on a fang. Again, nearly in tandem, they gouged a bloodied claw into the flesh they'd chosen to mark. Furuichi tensed and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the pain that had accompanied the contract formation with Hecadoth, only tripled, this time. He did not have to wait long.

A violent surge of sharp energy coursed through him, as though he'd taken hold of a livewire, filling his senses with ozone and acrid smoke. He gasped, entire body seizing and snapping to attention, and then relaxing past his ability to control. He collapsed limply back against his chair as the feeling passed. But there was no pain. Just an overwhelming feeling of sheer _sensation_, unpleasant in its own right, but far from the terrible burning of the first contract. His first instinct was to ask if something had gone wrong, but the exultant, self-satisfied expressions on the three demons' faces told him otherwise.

"Why didn't it hurt this time?" he asked dazedly, woozy from the intense sensation. Jabberwock snorted.

"It's like fucking, kid. First time always hurts for the recipient." Furuichi flushed deeply. He wondered how much it had hurt for Oga to become contracted with Beel, but figured the badass wouldn't have even noticed the pain of the contract forming beyond the pain of the baby's temper tantrum that day.

"Also, I was…rough. I panicked when I felt the others coming, and did not take the care I should have. Sorry," Hecadoth admitted. Furuichi stared, aghast. _Stop making it sound like you took my virginity, you shitty demon!_

"Alright, that's settled. Someone find a room for the kid; let him sleep on the contracts. We'll get down to business tomorrow. Hear that, you fuckers? _Meeting adjourned! _Anddon't forget to give blood for the unit contract. We'll do that tomorrow, too," the commander barked as he forced his way out through the crowd. Not that he had to do much forcing, of course. The horde of pillars parted like the ocean before a vessel as he walked.

Hecadoth turned to Furuichi, gripped his upper arm, and lifted him bodily out of the chair. The teen swayed alarmingly on his feet for a moment, but was able to catch himself, mostly because the idea of steadying himself on any of the demons around him made his temples break out in a light sweat.

"There should be a room available in the northern wing, where travelling dignitaries stay," Laymia offered, resting a gloved hand on his bare shoulder and guiding him towards the door.

"We've hosted foreign dignitaries?" Naga murmured contemplatively, falling into step with the other two demons and Furuichi.

"Well, no," Laymia admitted. "At least not in the northern wing. We usually put them in the dungeons. But! The rooms are there, and on the plus side, you know that they've never been used!"

"Which is good, because there's no one here who would have washed the sheets," Hecadoth grunted as the four continued into the hallway.

Now that he was no longer being toted around upside down, Furuichi could see that Behemoth's 34th Pillar Squad was…boring. The hallways were narrow, damp passageways of dark gray stone, cold and stark, and the few windows were too narrow and too high up to see much beyond glimpses of bizarrely colored landscape and lethal looking wildlife. Furuichi crossed his arms over his bare chest and tried to unsuccessfully suppress a shiver. They walked in silence, before the discomfort of the situation prompted the silver-haired teen to speak up with a question that had been teasing vaguely at his mind.

"Why are you guys being so…_courteous_ about this?" Hecadoth cast him a bemused look, while Laymia regarded him with a strange sort of concerned curiosity. Naga ignored them.

"What do you mean?" Hecadoth asked.

"I mean, you asking to make sure I wanted the contract back in my room, and then Jabberwock letting me have input into the other personal contracts. Why aren't you just making the contract, if it's so convenient?" Hecadoth snorted, and Laymia gave a light laugh. Naga continued to ignore them.

"I thought you were asking a serious question. Don't mess around, kid," the tallest demon said, losing interest in Furuichi's attempt at conversation.

"Wait! I'm serious. Why not just force it, like you were gonna do to Kunieda-senpai?"

"Eh? I was just fucking around with your little friend. It wouldn't have worked for a legitimate contract if I had just taken that girl's blood. It would have given me a minor, temporary power boost at best."

"Any contract worth talking about is consensual," Naga interjected finally. He came to a stop as they approached a staircase. "And this is as far as I'm going." Without further acknowledgement, the blue-haired demon broke off from the group and disappeared up the stone steps.

"Ah, this is where I leave you as well. The quarters of the pillar Barons are all on the third floor of the 34th Headquarters, if you ever need to find someone. The fourth floor has Behemoth and Jabberwock's suites, as well as the war room and library. The pillar General quarters are on the second floor. Grunt pillars have barracks on the first basement level, east wing, and the guest rooms are in the north wing. I'll leave the tour of the first floor to Hecadoth when he picks you up tomorrow morning _promptly at seven_ for breakfast." Laymia's smile was gentle and sweet and gave absolutely room for disobedience, the threat of casual disembowelment lurking behind narrowed grass-green eyes.

She waved goodbye and started to follow Naga up the stairs, but paused halfway and turned back. "Oh, and Hecadoth, find some appropriate clothes for our contractor, hmm?"

Hecadoth and Furuichi watched her blankly as she continued on her way, united in a vague sensation of fear-induced paralysis. Hecadoth was the first to recover.

"Shit. Looks like I'm sharing you with some scary bastards," he sighed, eyeing the teen askance.

"Please don't phrase it like that," Furuichi said weakly. He stumbled and squawked when the demon pressed a large hand against his shoulder blades to direct him towards the downward staircase.

* * *

AN: Welp, here's Furuichi's Trip to Hell, pt 1. And it's early, too! Don't expect the next chapter to come quickly, though, sorry. A note about the rankings: I've seen the pillar squad ranked in several different ways based on the various translations, but for consistency's sake I'm going to go with the system used by the Beelzebub Wiki, where the Barons report to the Commander (Jabberwock) and the Generals report to the Barons.

Anywho~ Hope you enjoyed it, until next time!


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